The Rooks and the Pawns
by Tall on the Inside
Summary: "We're just pieces in a game to them; expandable, rooks and pawns. But they've forgotten that all a pawn has to do is reach the other side of the board, and she becomes a Queen." ((hunger games au))
1. Chapter 1

**unbeta'd**

* * *

When Naegi Makoto wakes up, it's to silence.

It's not the kind of silence that means he's the first to wake up. It's not the kind of silence that means it's the dead of night. It lacks that sense of tranquility. There's nothing peaceful about this silence; it's a poison. There's something lurking on the edge of it, something blistering, something that washes over him and leaves him with a lingering sense of dread. It's a silence that cuts into him and eats him from the inside. It's the calm before the storm. It's the kind of silence that means something awful is about to happen.

He pushes himself from his bed, his heart heavy and his stomach knotted. Naegi wouldn't consider himself rich, but the fact that he and his sister have a bed to sleep in and don't rely on the harsh, cold ground for comfort means he's luckier than most in District Twelve. As that horrible feeling settles in and makes itself at home in his head, he realises what today is, and he thanks whatever it is that meant he was fortunate enough to be born into a family that isn't starving, or fighting for food or struggling to stay alive. He thanks that his name will only be entered into today's Reaping five times, and that his sister's will only be entered three times.

There are students in Naegi's class who will have had their names entered more than twenty times. He tries not to think about how likely it is one of them won't be there in his next lesson. He refuses to consider that the one missing will be him.

Komaru is already downstairs when he finally manages to get up. She's helping their father, who's nowhere to be seen, by icing cakes; they own a small bakery, and she adores the decoration of pastries. She's spent hours perfecting the skills required to craft small flowers, and the look of pride on her face whenever she's allowed to decorate (which isn't often) is one of the most honest, happiest expressions Naegi's ever seen her wear.

He knows that their father has let her do it today because he's worried this might be his last chance to see that look of concentration, of pride, of joy, twinkle in her eyes and across her lips. Naegi doesn't allow himself to even entertain that idea.

When his mother enters the room, she very quickly moves to embrace him. She holds him tightly, one hand on his back and the other stroking his hair. She smells sweet, like lavender, and when she finally pulls away from him, she lets her hands drop to her sides and looks him in the eye.

"Makoto," she whispers, her voice raspy, "good luck today. Don't do anything stupid."

He nods. "I'm only in there five times, mum, I'm sure-"

"Harm has come to those with less," she tells him sternly, like she does every year, and her eyes spark with pain and grief, like they do every year; when his mother was thirteen, she had two elder brothers. By the time she eighteen, she had none.

Naegi takes a deep breath in. There isn't anything he can do to reassure her, so he simply reminds her that he's been lucky for the last four reapings he's been in and he doesn't see why anything should change at this one. His mother allows herself a small smile, and nods, before turning and heading towards her room. He doesn't have to ask why she left so suddenly; he saw the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. He has his own begging to be shed too, despite having no reason to cry.

The slam of the door makes his sister look up. "Oh!" She's a little startled, and it's obvious she didn't realise Naegi was up. "Morning, Makoto!"

"Morning," he replies, trying to feign some form of cheerful attitude. "Nice to see you're awake first for once, Komaru."

Her face is solemn, her tone is dark. "I don't think I even fell asleep last night."

His sister isn't much shorter than him, and her hair is only a little darker. It's cut into a bob and frames her face in a pleasant manner, despite the fact that one long strand doesn't quite fit on either side of her head and is just kind of there, wild and changeable. Naegi has a strand like that, one he can't quite flatten that sticks up no matter what he does. It's somewhat irritating, but, according to his mother, also somewhat endearing.

"Maizono-san came to visit you earlier," Komaru states, turning her head back to the cakes she's icing. "I think she wanted to know how many times you've been entered this year."

"Oh." Naegi shakes his head, and rubs his eyes tiredly. "I guess I better go see her then."

Komaru's tongue protrudes between her lips, stuck out in concentration. "Mmm-hmm. One shouldn't keep the Mayor's daughter waiting. She's probably worried about you."

"Maizono-san doesn't usually worry about me," he replies. "She says she doesn't need to; her intuition is too good."

His sister freezes, and for a moment, she just stares at the cake before her. "Do you think that means that... that her intuition is... Do you think she thinks something is wrong?"

"No." Naegi knows what she's thinking, and he doesn't want her to think that anymore. They're both going to be fine. He's sure of it. "I think you've just gotten what her incentive to come here was wrong."

Komaru doesn't say anything. Her gaze is still locked on the cakes in front of her. She doesn't move. She doesn't carry on icing. She doesn't do anything.

Naegi moves towards her, and places a supportive hand on her shoulder, but that unintentionally becomes a somewhat awkward hug. "We'll be fine, Komaru," he promises. "You don't need to worry."

"But-" She stops, and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, a tear has managed to escape. She's scared, and her voice trembles, but she begins again. "Last year... Last year the tribute... She only had her name in once, Mako. Just once."

Komaru began to full on sob now, and Naegi managed to pull her away from the cakes and hug her properly. "The... The odds just weren't in last year's favour," he mumbled.

"If one out of thousands wasn't in her favour," Komaru mutters, her voice muffled by Naegi's shoulder, "then what good is three out of thousands? How good is five out of thousands?"

"Komaru..." Naegi doesn't have an answer for her. There is no answer for a question like that.

"It's not going to be different just because it's us, Makoto," Komaru pushes herself out of his embrace. "We're just as likely to be picked as anyone else."

"But we won't be," he says, instinctively. "I won't let anything happen to you, or to me. Okay?"

She wipes her tears away with her sleeves. "No," she snuffled. "I'm not okay. But I'll make it through today. We both will."

...

Considering the fact Maizono Sayaka's father is the Mayor, their home is, understandably, rather large. Naegi always feels nervous about visiting, and while he's there he feels tremendously out of place, but he swallows that fear and makes his way inside every time, and this time is no different. He passes through the large gates and knocks on the door, trying his best to keep his breathing steady.

The door is thrown open by Maizono,a huge smile painted on her face as she throws her arms around Naegi. She's halfway through getting ready for the Reaping, with some sections of her hair tied up and other parts low. She's wearing a pale pink dress that stops at her knees and has no sleeves and is likely the nicest thing anyone will be wearing today. Her name will have only been entered five times as well.

"Naegi-kun!" she cries. "I'm so glad to see you! I have something for your sister!"

He's pulled inside, but he barely has time to take in the nicely, if scarcely, decorated hallway before he's yanked up a curved staircase and tugged into Maizono's room. The paint on the walls is peeling, but it's still a great deal more colourful than a lot of the rooms in a lot of the houses in Twelve. Maizono let's go of his hand and walks to her wardrobe.

"Couldn't you have brought it over earlier?" Naegi asks, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Komaru's all panicked now; think's you have a bad feeling about today's Reaping."

Maizono stiffens, but carries on rooting through her wardrobe. "Naegi-san's favourite colour is blue, right?"

"Yeah, she likes blue, but that doesn't answer the question, Maizono-san."

"Ah!" Maizono steps away from the cupboard and turns towards Naegi, a pile of blue material scrunched between her arms. "Here we go! I've never worn it, and I'm sure it will look great on her!"

Naegi's brow furrows. "Why are you so happy, Maizono-san? You're not usually on Reaping Day. And why did Komaru think you wanted to know how many times my name was entered?"

"It's... It's because I asked her how many times her name was entered," Maizono explains, dumping the dress on Naegi's lap. She sits down beside him, her smile fading, and she whispers, "You know how I have good intuitions?"

It starts to click. She wanted to know how many times Komaru's been entered, she's giving Komaru a nice dress, she wouldn't give that dress to Komaru herself, she had to give it to him. "No," the word slips out, barely a whisper.

"Naegi-kun, I'm sorry," Maizono turns her gaze towards the floor. "I'm so sorry, but I think your sister-"

"No," Naegi stands up, and the dress falls off of his lap. "You've got that wrong! There's no way Komaru's going to get picked! There's no way! There's... There's no way!"

He doesn't realise he's started crying, or that his voice has been raised. Maizono takes his yelling without flinching. She licks her lips, and says softly, "I hope I'm wrong, Naegi-kun, I really do. But just in case I'm not," she points towards the discarded dress with her chin, "I'm sure Naegi-san would look beautiful in that dress, and looking beautiful is certainly an advantage when it comes to the Games."

Naegi shakes his head. "How's it going to help her fight?"

"She'll make a good impression, Naegi-kun. Good impressions lead to sponsors."

"You sound like you've lived through them," he scoffs, trying not to get angry or upset.

She shrugs. "Victor's Village isn't that far from here, and Ikusaba-san isn't that awful to talk to, when you catch her on a good day. Not... Not that many students want to be friends with the Mayor's daughter. I think a lot of them resent me, to be honest, because I'm not starving like them."

Naegi blinks. Once. Twice. A third time. "Oh," he whispers finally. It's the only response he can think of.

Maizono is still looking at the floor. "Oh," she repeats. "Oh indeed."

"I'm sorry, Maizono-san," Naegi picks up the dress and sits back down. "Thank you. Thank you for trying your best to help."

"It's not much," she sighs, "but it's all I can give you."

Her hand slides over Naegi's hand and stays there. He doesn't know if it's intentional, but it feels nice. They stay like that for a while; just sat on Maizono's bed, hands touching but not being held, the dress draped across Naegi's lap, staring at Maizono's ceiling.

"Stay safe," she says, finally.

"You too," he replies, somehow knowing this is his signal to leave. He pushes himself off her bed and smiles. "I'm sure Komaru will love the dress."

Maizono nods. "I hope the rest of the country doesn't have to see her in it."

...

The whole journey home, Maizono's words burn holes in Naegi's thoughts. It rips his heart to pieces when he hands Komaru the dress, and she holds it to her face and tells him it's beautiful and soft and perfect. She's still scared, and Naegi can see it in her eyes, but she tries to smile for him. She doesn't quite manage it.

Their mother says she can't believe how beautiful her daughter looks, and tells Naegi to hurry up and finish changing while Komaru stays in the living room and does a few twirls and the whole thing is so normal that Naegi almost forgets it's Reaping Day as he struggles to tame that one strand of hair. He wishes he could drown out Maizono's voice with actions and distractions, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't. She echoes through his head, repeating the same words over and over, and try as he might, Naegi can't think of another time her intuition has failed her. Then again, he can't think of another time her intuition has led her to believe someone will be chosen as tribute; usually it's just small things like whether it will rain or what someone's going to say before they say it.

Maizono has to be wrong.

By the time his father has called him down, he's given up his struggle. The strand that sticks up is slightly bent, half pressed down, half as tall and mighty as ever. His mother sighs when she sees that, and tries to smooth his hair down herself.

"Honestly," she mutters, "we can't have twelve whole districts looking at your hair in this state. It's bad enough your own district has to see it."

Naegi gulps. He knows his mother is talking about the odd chance that a camera will swoop over where he's stood, but he hears Maizono apologising again and feels his heart stop, then speed up, beating a billion times faster than any heart should. For a moment he worries it's going to explode, but Komaru catches a glimpse of his panicked face, and he knows he has to calm down.

His sister laces her hand through his and squeezes reassuringly. "You promised me we'd be fine," she reminded him, as their mother busied herself making sure her husband's shirt was tucked in. "Don't tell me you're going to go back on that promise now?"

"Uh," Naegi allows himself a second to think, and Komaru's face falls into despair. She sighs, closes her eyes, and nods.

"Let's just hope," she begins, much calmer than her older brother, despite the fact she'd been terrified earlier, "that the odds are actually in our favour."

Naegi doesn't respond, because he's sure that they won't be. Komaru holds his hand as they leave and head to the town centre.

It's a nice journey, usually, not too far away but not too close. Today, however, there's no joy in it. It's one filled with fear. Anticipation hangs in the air. Every crunch of a foot stepping over gravel is the bones of another child on this same journey to the centre getting crushed by a Career Tribute from District Two. Every soft trickle of wind is the harsh, biting roar of the storm the Gamemakers generated in the Arena to kill someone walking the same path Naegi was. Every timid, hushed conversation between friends and siblings as they passed him was the yell of another tribute as they signalled to their allies that this was where someone Naegi would be standing alongside in just a few moments was hiding.

Naegi refused to entertain the idea that Komaru would be the female tribute. He banished it. She would be a stranger, someone Naegi barely knew, someone he'd walked past once or twice, but never spoken to. Someone who sat in the back of the classroom and didn't contribute much to lessons, so today would be the first time he actually heard her voice. He would have no idea who this person was, but she grew up alongside him.

That concept was almost more terrifying than Komaru being chosen.

Their parents left them, in order to go stand alongside the other adults. His mother kissed them both on the forehead before the two of them split, joining two different lines to get the tiniest pinprick of blood taken. They had to prove they were there, after all, lest peacekeepers knock their door down in search of them. No one missed Reaping Day.

As Naegi made his way to stand among the other sixteen-year-old boys, he lost sight of Komaru. He did, however, catch a glimpse of a pale pink dress, strawn amongst greys and greens and blues, looking completely out of place, and yet also completely at home. After all, the girl wearing it could be the girl standing up on stage in a few minutes. It doesn't matter how few times her name has been entered when compared to anyone else.

Naegi looks down at his own outfit; faded grey trousers and a pale green shirt he'd made sure to tuck in. His mother had offered him the chance to wear his father's suspenders, but he'd refused. He was beginning to wish he hadn't, because maybe they would distract him from how scratchy this shirt was.

He doesn't know how long he stood, stone silent, waiting. His lungs are full, clogged with everyone else's fear and panic, as he inhales their worries and exhales his own. He finds himself growing hot, despite the fact that a chill breeze nips at his ears and nose. He just wants this over with. He just wants Komaru safe.

When the sound of music plays, piercing the tense atmosphere, it's almost a relief to Naegi. But then he remembers what that music heralds, and he wants to close his eyes and cover his ears and run away and hide and just be anywhere but where he is. His fists clench and he strangles air and he tries to breathe but suddenly what he's breathing isn't soft and it doesn't bring life. It's thick and stagnant and stale and every breath rakes down his throat, scraping it, clawing it all the way down until it finally enters his lungs and fights it's way out of them, back outside so he can breathe it in again. He wants to stop breathing. He wants to stop letting whatever this is that hurts his heart in but he can't because he needs it. So he carries on breathing, and each breath carries on hurting, and his heart carries on beating in anguished thumps, banging against the inside of his ribs, and his lungs fill until they're fit to burst and then deflate to the point he fears they'll never fill again. But they do. They fill again and again and again, and he can't stop them filling.

He's scared.

He wipes sweat from underneath his fringe, just above his brow, and on the way down, his hand stops over his eyes and he's able to shield himself, just for a second, until a familiar voice belts, "Welcome, everyone, to the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games!"

He can't hide anymore.

His green eyes open once again, slowly, fearful, and there on the stage, standing before them in all his glory, is Hagakure Yasuhiro, District Twelve's Escort. His hair, as always, is styled to the point where it looks pointed (Komaru once told him that it looked like a tree with many branches, where Maizono has remarked it looks more a hedgehog's bristles. Naegi himself thought it looked more like a broom), and Naegi thinks, not for the first time, that were Hagakure himself to be reaped, he would be able to take on the other tributes with nothing more than his hair.

After greeting them, Hagakure continues with, "Hard to believe it's been a year since we last saw each other! And here we are again already!" He laughs, and the doors to the town hall open one last time as District Twelve's only living victor, a tall, wiry woman with short black hair and pale, fragile looking skin, laced with freckles, sneaks her way in, late, as always, to the Reaping. She sits beside Mayor Maizono, and folds her legs under her chair, looking down.

It's a well-known fact that Ikusaba Mukuro is not proud of what she did to win the Games. It's also well-know that she hates being at the Reaping and she hates reliving it every year. Naegi feels sorry for her for a moment. She isn't that much older than him. Her clothes are dark, black, and it's like she's already in mourning for the set of tributes that won't survive this year.

"Now, as I'm sure you all know, we're gonna start this years reaping the way with start every reaping; with a video from the Capitol, approved by President Enoshima herself!" Hagakure is the only excited person in the square before the Town Hall.

The film is the same as it always is, explaining why they compete in the Games every year, in punishment for the rebellion the districts made seventy-four years ago. President Enoshima doesn't speak, but the whole thing feels like her work. She's very eccentric, and her style is distinctive. When she came into power, she revolutionised the Games, by firing the hosts and commentators Naegi's mother had grown up with, and replacing them with a stuffed pink rabbit. The President herself always insists on speaking through a stuffed bear at speeches and public appearances. Only a few have ever seen her face. That makes her a lot more terrifying, and the Games a lot worse; when Komaru was younger, Naegi remembers watching the Hunger Games in horror, while she laughed and chuckled at the "silly bunny who keeps messing up her words". It's not just the people from the Capitol who enjoy the Games. The children who are too young to understand their brothers and sisters are dying enjoy them too. And then they grow up. They grow up and they can't look at themselves in the mirror when the Games are on, because they used to enjoy this. They used to think it was funny. They used to laugh when someone died because they didn't understand.

Komaru thinks President Enoshima gets off on knowing she's made every child who grew up while she was in power sick with themselves. Naegi's starting to believe it too.

The film brings a tear to Hagakure's eyes, like it does every year, and he wipes it on the sleeve of his lime green suit. "Wasn't that incredible?" he asks, turning back to the children gathered before him. "Now, onto the main event!" His eyes sparkle hungrily, like he's about to dig into some huge feast. "Happy Hunger Games, everyone! And may the odds be ever in your favour! Should we, uh... Ladies first?" He sounds so confused, and he looks from the camera crews to the Mayor to the children of District Twelve, like he's waiting for someone to answer, before stepping over the a large fishbowl full of paper, and slipping his hand inside. He scrounges around for a while, before deciding on the perfect slip. Naegi closes his eyes, and braces himself.

Hagakure clears his throat. Silence engulfs Naegi, and he waits.

"Naegi Komaru-chi!" comes Hagakure's voice. Then there's silence again.

Naegi thinks he hears his mother's voice. He notices some movement among the block of girls. They're parting to let his sister out. That's not allowed. This isn't happening. Maizono was wrong. She had to be. She had to be wrong. Komura isn't allowed to be reaped. She isn't allowed to go. None of this is allowed to happen. His body is suddenly a torture chamber. Everything aches. Every heart beat is agony. The strength required to keep his eyelids open is equal to the effort required to pick up a bag of flower or two from the bakery and then some. He feeks dizzy. He staggers backwards. Is he still breathing? He can't remember if he is breathing. He needed to breathe. Breathing would keep him alive.

What is the point in being alive if it's just to watch Komura die?

Maizono was right; she looks beautiful in that dress. It swishes as she makes her way up the steps to where Hagakure is stood. She's so brave. If Naegi was chosen, he'd be crying right now. If it were Naegi, he'd be praying for a way out. But there is no way out.

Wait.

"I volunteer!" he cries out, despite himself. "I volunteer!"

There's movement around him. Murmurs, confused whispers, a ripple disturbing the peaceful agitation of the boys, starting at Naegi and spreading outwards.

"Well," Hagakure beams. "Seems like District Twelves got it's first volunteer! C'mon up here!"

"Hagakure," comes the cold voice of Ikusaba Mukuro. "That's a boy."

"So?"

"So he can't volunteer to take the place of a girl."

"I volunteer as tribute."

There's little emotion in the voice that yells this time. It's casual. The girl could be volunteering to shut the class door, or milk her goat, or make dinner. Naegi can't see her from where he's stood, but he can vaguely make out what looks like a misshapen, discoloured fist.

"No volunteer Twelve just gained two in one reaping," Hagakure chuckles. "Didn't see that one coming." He turns to Ikusaba, and mutters, "This one is a girl, right?" a tad too loudly. It is picked up by the microphone and projected all across the centre.

"Yes," Ikusaba rolls her eyes. "Invited her up."

"C'mon up, real volunteer!" Hagakure yells, cheerfully. Naegi feels his heartbeat fall back to it's normal rate, and sees a tear or two escape from Komura's eyes as she practically runs down the steps from the stage and back to her friends. One of them hugs her.

The girl who stands beside Hagakure in Komura's place has long, light hair. She looks familiar, but Naegi can't work out why. Her hair hangs loose down her back, apart from one strand that has been tied to the side and plaited. A black ribbon is tied in a neat bow atop the plait. Naegi wonders if her mother had expected this at all when she tied it.

The girl's face is blank, her eyes dull. The first thing Naegi notices about her clothes is that she's wearing dark gloves, which is probably why her fist looked so strange. She wears a brown dress with a dull purple cardigan. Purple isn't a colour Naegi often sees on clothes. It's nice, and she looks nice in it.

"So, what's your name?" Hagakure asks her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her face into the microphone.

"Kirigiri Kyouko," she states. There's no emotion in her words; no fear, no passion, no annoyance. She seems calm, collected. She does not seem like someone who has just effectively given her life to save Naegi's sister.

"And Kirigiri-chi, did you know Naegi-chi?"

"Naegi-san?" Naegi could swear her pale lips curl in a smile. "No."

"No?" Hagakure steps back, in mock shock. "Well then, why did you volunteer?"

Kirigiri's eyes fall on the onlookers, and Naegi has the strangest feeling she's looking at him. "Someone had to. Someone obviously cared a lot about Naegi-san if they're willing to volunteer for her. I couldn't let their sacrifice go to waste."

Hagakure's laughing again. "Aren't you a weird one," he beams. "Oh, you're gonna be great in the Games, I can just tell. Now, onto the boys!"

Naegi doesn't hear him call the name of the male tribute. He feels like he's just been shoved face-first into a pool of freezing cold water, and he's breathing his first few breaths of air after almost dying. It's good. He feels so at peace with the world. He no longer shares the fear all the boys around him do. He exists on a different plane of existence. Komaru is safe. She's safe and that's all that matters.

Well, that's all that matters until someone, maybe the reaped or his family, yells, "But Naegi already volunteered! Why isn't he the male tribute?"

He spirals back into that world of panic again. Everything is dark and blurry and there's a buzzing in his ears and he wants to scream and every blink is agony and every breath is torture and he doesn't know whether the pounding in his head or of his heart is louder.

But Komaru is safe. And if Komaru is safe, he will take that pain.

"Yeah, you're right! Someone else did already volunteer! They should take your place!" Hagakure booms. "Right, Ikusaba-chi?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I don't think that's how this works-"

"Wrong!" Hagakure cuts her off, yelling, screaming, elated. "I've decided this is how it works! Where's my first volunteer?!"

"He's here!" The shout comes from the boy next to Naegi, but the boy might as well have been in another country, because that's about as well as Naegi hears him. He doesn't remember stepping away from the crowd, or being escorted by Peacekeepers to the stage, but it must have happened, because the next thing he knows, he's next to Hagakure and Komaru is yelling, "Mako! Makoto no!" as she's dragged, kicking and screaming away from the crowd.

"And what's your name?" Hagakure repeats, poking at Naegi's shell. He's not a person anymore. He's game to be hunted. He's a piece of meat nearing it's expiration.

"Um," he rasps, thirsty and also drowning. "Na- Naegi Makoto."

"Naegi-chi?" he repeats. "So the first tribute was your sister?" Naegi nods and Hagakure laughs. "Well, I guess that explains why you tried to volunteer for her!"

Naegi is still staring straight in front of him. He thinks Hagakure asks him another question, so he says, "Yeah."

Her name was only in there three times.

His eyes are burning and freezing at the same time. He blinks rapidly. Shields holding back waterfalls begin to fail, and he feels something cold and wet and burning drip down his cheek and erode his face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Hagakure cries, "I present to you, your tributes from District Twelve! Kirigiri Kyouko-chi, and Naegi Makoto-chi!"

From the sound of it, Hagakure is the only one applauding, but even that vigorous applause slows and fades. The lack of sound is what makes Naegi looks up.

The crowd have raised their arms. They hold their hands up in a three-fingered salute, a rarely used symbol of thanks or admiration. A farewell to a loved one. Kirigiri has done it too.

Naegi raises his hand, but he does not salute. He wipes tears from his eyes, and allows a watery smile to show his shock at the action. He doesn't know why they're doing it, or who it's aimed at. Him? Kirigiri? Both of them?

They're quickly shoved off-stage, and through the doors to the town hall.

"There are no cameras now," Kirigiri states. "You can cry as much as you want."

"I..." Naegi doesn't know what to say. The two of them are being dragged down a corridor and told they'll have to wait in solitary before their families are brought to them to say goodbye. He sheds a few tears.

As Kirigiri is about to enter her waiting room, he bursts. "Thanks for volunteering. Thank you for saving my sister."

She smiles slightly. "My pleasure," she replies, shaking the Peacekeeper from her arm, and entering the room of her own accord.

Naegi had wanted to hold it in longer, like he'd wanted to hold in those tears, but he hadn't been able to. He's shoved into a room of his own, and his thoughts make quick company. He knows Kirigiri from somewhere, but he can't remember where. This girl volunteered and took his sister's place, and he doesn't even know how he knows her. He doesn't even know if he knows her, so why did she do it? Why did she save a stranger's life?

He sinks down, his tears freely flowing down his face now. He rests his chin on his knees and hugs his legs to him, trying to get all this hurt and confusion out of him before his parents - before Komaru - show up. But try as he might, he can't escape the dread that is setting into his stomach, rotting his bones, tearing his heart.

He wipes away a few more tears with the back of his hand, and allows himself a small smile. At least Maizono had been wrong.

* * *

**author's note: **so im thinking about posting this on my ao3. i have yet to actually upload anything there, and since this au is one that i worked hard on (with uno's help), i think i might be able to be brave enough to post it there. also, in my experience, the dangan ronpa tag on ffdotnet is usually troll-fics and submit your ocs, both of which i enjoy, but i worry this might get buried somewhere under all of those.

i dont know when ill next update this, but it will hopefully be soon. im planning on rereading the hunger games too, so i can write this fic better. i saw catching fire on saturday and as soon as it was finished i knew i had to write this fic. thank you for reading, and i hope ill see you again soon when i post the next chapter.

(also it would be really appreciated if you could let me know whether you think i should post this on ao3, and if youre a fan of my work, if you could let me know if you think any of my other fanfics are good enough for ao3. thanks again!)


	2. Chapter 2

It takes him a good deal of effort to stop crying, but Naegi forces himself to do it. His family will come soon. He doesn't want to be sobbing on the floor the last time they see him. He pulls himself together, and then he pulls himself up.

The room isn't very big, but it's nicely decorated; the carpet is thick, lush, red, and the sofa and chairs are covered in red velvet. Naegi realises that for some Tributes, this will be the nicest part of District Twelve they've ever been in. He takes a seat in one of the chairs, crosses his legs over and wipes his face. He thinks for a moment. He wonders whether he has a chance. He supposes he's smart, he's a little stronger than some kids he knows, he's learnt a lot from watching the Games every year...

He has no chance. He's so completely average, he'll be easy picking for the Careers. He wonders for a second whether Kirigiri will put up much of a fight; if she can't, then why did she volunteer?

It's as he's coming to the conclusion that he knows Kirigiri because she is in her class that the door creaks open and he's bombarded from every angle all at once because his sister has thrown her arms around him and his mother is yelling, "What did I tell you, Makoto?! I told you not to do anything stupid! I told you!"

Komaru whispers, "Thank you," before letting go, and soon he's lost in his mother's arms and she's sobbing and Naegi starts crying again because she's stroking the back of his head and kissing his cheeks like she did when he was a child and he's so scared, he's so very scared. He's going to lose this. He's going to lose them.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I'm so sorry, mum. I... I just couldn't let this happen to her."

He feels his mother nod. "Promise me you'll do your best to win?"

He can't win. He's already given up. But he can't let his mother know that. He can already picture the interviews. She's going to have to relive her childhood again. He doesn't want that for her. He swallows, and nods. "I promise."

"Good," she lets go of him, and smiles at him, her face streaked with tears. She pinches his cheek. "My brave, strong Makoto," she rasps, her voice full of pride. "Do your district proud, okay? Do your sister proud."

Naegi nods, and Komaru says, "Do you know her?"

"Who?" Naegi asks, though he knows the answer.

"The girl... Kirigiri? The one who volunteered for me."

Naegi shakes his head. "She seems really familiar, but I'm not sure why. I think she's in my class."

Komaru nods, and Naegi's father, who's sat down, says, "District Twelve might have a winner with her."

Three heads snap up to look at him. "How d'you figure?" Komaru asks.

"I do trade with her," their father shrugs, nonchalantly. "She lives on the Seam. Brings me game. Shoots it right in the eye every time."

"You never told me you were trading," Naegi's mother rises from her seat and her voice begins to climb. "And illegally at that!"

"Mum, is now really the time?" Komaru tilts her head to where Naegi is sat, and their mother falls back instantly, and wraps her arm around Naegi's shoulder. She strokes his arm soothingly.

"Makoto," she begins, her voice chiding, "the Arena is no place for friends. If what your father says is true, I want you to stay away from this girl. Alliances are difficult enough to manage as they are, but if you feel like you owe your partners something, which, in this case, you most definitely do, they're all the more dangerous. You can thank the girl, but I don't want you working with her."

Naegi nods, once again, his face numb. His mother chews her lip and swallows, trying not to burst into tears. She pulls him towards her once again, hugging, squeezing, holding him, too afraid to let go, but when she finally does, she kisses his face and says, "I love you, Makoto, remember that. I've always loved you, and I always will. Try and get yourself back home. Try and get back home for me, okay?"

"Okay," he replies, barely able to get the words out. His mother smiles and nods, stroking his face. Komaru wraps her arms around him again and tells him that she loves him too, and that he needs to stay safe. She whispers, very, very quietly, that she's going to learn how to fight and how to kill, because if she's ever in this position again, she's not going to rely on someone to save her. She'll save herself. Naegi wants to tell her not to do that, but he can't risk his mother overhearing, so he shakes his head, but she just smiles and ruffles his hair.

"I know you can win, Mako," she smiles. "I know you can."

He can't. They all know he can't. But he nods to show his thanks anyway.

His father comes last, and he ruffles his hair too, and kisses his forehead. "You've always done us proud, boy," he says, as Naegi's mother stands up and he wraps his arm around his wife's shoulder. She hugs him, and he continues, "Reckon you can do us proud one last time?"

Naegi flings himself out of his seat and hugs them both, sobbing. He nods rapidly, and just wants to stay like that forever, until Komaru coughs in attempt to get his attention, and he looks back to her, still sat on the sofa.

"I have something for you," she says, still smiling despite the fact her face is streaked with tears. She removes a paper bag from the jacket she's thrown on other the blue dress Maizono gave her. She reaches into the bag, and pulls out one of the cakes she was icing earlier. It's beautiful. It's the most beautiful cake Naegi's ever seen, and somehow he's rendered speechless by it. He takes it with shaking hands, and mouths Komaru's name, but he can't get any words out. She shrugs and looks up at him, before hugging him one last time.

"Win this for me," her voice is stern. "You promised we'd both be okay. That means you have to win."

Naegi licks his lips. Tears are cascading down his face and his heart is beating so very fast. He's sure that it must know it's beats are numbered. "I've always tried my best to keep my promises, haven't I Ko?" He attempts a smile.

She shakes her head. "I don't want this to be the first promise you've made to me that's been broken, Mako."

...

Kirigiri Kyouko knows it will not do her any good to cry. There will be more cameras at the train station. She does not need her tear-stained face to be broadcast across the nation, as so she simply will not cry. It's that easy.

She paces. The room she is in is lush. It has a thick carpet, the thickest she's ever seen, and chairs made from a velvet so soft that it's somewhat difficult to sit on, so she doesn't. She paces. She thinks. Thinking is something she's good at. She thinks a little too much. She notices. She analyses. She does this all very quickly and sometimes it's a burden because she's considering every single possibility and obviously over-analysing some things, but if she doesn't over-analyse them then she might under-analyse them and if there is one thing she does not want to do it's under-analyse something because then she is left with an empty, incomplete understanding of the situation. And so her mind is always busy, collecting, sorting, calculating. She likes to keep her body just as busy as her mind. She paces.

She isn't expecting any visitors. Her grandfather is bedridden, on the verge of death, and so, fortunately, is one of the few who does not have to be present at the Reaping.

He won't even know she's gone until it starts to get dark and she isn't home. He'll struggle out of bed, he'll grab the sticks she skinned and carved for him to help him walk when he felt up to it. He'll attempt to get out of the house, and once he does, he'll call her name. He'll call it until his yells as loud enough to reach someone else, and they'll take him home, and help him into bed, and say she's gone. She's gone and she probably won't be coming home.

He'll die without her.

She doesn't expect her father to turn up; he hasn't paid any attention to her in years. Not since the accident.

As she always does when she thinks about the accident, Kirigiri glances at her hands. Not that she can see them, because a pair of thick woolen gloves are hiding them, but she knows what they look like, underneath the second skin she traded a good piece of game for.

She lost her mother in that accident, so that's another visitor she won't be getting. She can only hope that her father will take care of her grandfather. He would have been at the Reaping. He knows she's gone. He alone can take care of her grandfather.

The door creaks open, and Kirigiri freezes. She expects it to be Peacemakers, ready to take her out. She calms her breathing.

It's not Peacemakers.

The girl from the Reaping stands before her, her blue dress looking as incredible on her as it did when she began her walk to the stage, her cheeks glistening with ghosts of tears she cried over her brother. She has a jacket on over her dress, and she offers her a smile. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," Kirigiri replies.

She gestures to the sofa. "May I?"

"Of course," Kirigiri blinks away her surprise.

She sits down, and taps the space next to her, indicating she wants Kirigiri to sit beside her. "I know we've never met, but you did effectively give your life to save mine, so do you mind if I call you Kyouko-san?"

"Not at all," she takes the seat, and tugs her dress down over her knees. The girl suits this room, with her neatly cut hair and satin dress. Kirigiri doesn't.

"You can call me Komaru," she continues, reaching into her jacket. "I don't have long, you'll be leaving soon. Here, these are for you." She pulls out a white paper bag, and hands it to Kirigiri. "Made these this morning. I hope you like them."

Kirigiri reaches into the bag, and pulls out a cake. It's exquisitely designed, with an incredible, beautiful picture iced on top. She doesn't know if she'll be able to eat something that looks like a work of art. She glances inside the bag, and it's filled with similarly designed cakes.

"I've never had cake before," she admits, looking up to meet Komaru's gaze. The girl nods.

"I wanted to say thank you," she explains. "You saved my life. I also want to make you an offer."

Kirigiri's gaze narrows. "Go on."

Komaru nods. "Dad says you do trade; I'm here to trade with you. I heard you can hunt. And you can kill." She pauses. Kirigiri is sure she knows what's coming, but she decides to let Komaru say it herself. The girl looks down. She takes a deep breath. "I... I want you to protect my brother in the Games. I know you can do it."

"And you think cake is enough to buy his protection?" Kirigiri is almost amused. Her question is asked with no malevolence; it's soft and gentle. She just wants to see if this girl is naïve as she looks.

"God no!" Komaru chokes it out, almost laughing. "The cakes are a thank you for saving my life. The trade is simple; protect my family in-game and I'll protect yours out of it."

Kirigiri freezes. "You'd do that?" she asks, slowly, hardly daring to believe it.

Komaru nods. "I'd do that, Kyouko-san. How many are they and where can I find them."

"It's just... It's just one person," Kirigiri chokes, feeling for the first time since she volunteered that she might actually cry. "My grandfather. He was injured a few years ago in a mining accident and... He probably won't survive that long anyway, but if you could look after him I'd... I'd..."

"It's okay," Komaru tilts her head to the side and smiles. Her voice is soft and soothing. "Where can I find him?"

So Kirigiri tells her where she lives and Komaru thanks her and wishes her good luck and offers her a hug and promises she'll do her best to keep him safe and Kirigiri nods and says she'll take care of her brother for her and when she leaves Komaru is so full of hope that Kirigiri actually does think she might cry. But crying won't help her, so she tells herself she won't.

She doesn't get up and start pacing though. She takes a bite of one of the cakes Komaru has made for her and almost chokes at its soft, fluffy taste, and thinks.

Thinking is something Kirigiri Kyouko is very good at.

...

When the door opens a second time, Naegi is sniffling but has stopped crying. He jumps to his feet, expecting it to be Peacemakers, expecting to leave, expecting to be taken away, but it's Maizono. She looks like she's been crying just as much as his family has, and for a moment they both freeze, and just look at each other, until Naegi breaks their silence with a nervous chuckle, and the words, "I guess you were wrong, eh, Maizono-san?"

"Naegi-kun!" she cries. "Do you really think now is the time for-"

"I guess not," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and glances down. "I'm sorry Maizono-san-"

He stops. She's wrapped herself around him, and starts crying into his chest.

"I don't want you to go, Naegi-kun," she wails. "I don't want to lose you!"

He pats her back, stunned. "I don't want to go either, Maizono-san, but someone has to."

"Why does someone have to?!" she yells. "Why does this have to happen?! I hate it!"

Naegi can't respond, so he just pets her as she wails into his shirt. He wants to tell her that it's all okay, that everything will be okay, but he can't make that promise to two people in the same day, especially when he's so sure he'll break it, so he lets her cry, until she finally pushes herself away, wipes her eyes on the back of her hands, and regulates her breathing.

"I never had a chance to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress," Naegi smiles.

She turns to face him, and he can't read her expression. It's confused but also pleased but also horrified. She shakes her head, and forces herself to smile. "You're allowed," she says, in a voice that is too calm, too controlled, too void of any form of emotion, "to wear one thing from your district. To remind you of home. I... I picked something for you."

Naegi doesn't say anything as she looks down at her chest, and fiddles with a pin displayed there. After some difficulty, it's clear she's shaking too badly to take it off.

"Maizono-san, would you like me to-"

"Please," her tone is urgent. "I don't know how much time I have here."

He nods, and steps towards. She lowers her twitching fingers, her lips trembling, and he very carefully unpins her badge, his fingers numb, much calmer now, despite the feeling of empty horror that has stolen over his stomach. Once it's free, he flips it over a few times in his hand, staring at it.

"It's a Mockingjay," Maizono explains. "To show the Capitol that we can create something beautiful from their despair. To remind you of home. To," she pauses, and looks up at him, fearful. "To remind you of me."

Naegi smiles, and Maizono steps onto her tip-toes and kisses his cheek lightly. He freezes, but wraps his arms around her. She does the same, and they hold each other. It's like before, in her room; there are no words, but just being with each other, just embracing each other, feels good and right. She cries a little more, and Naegi sheds a few more tears, but while he is silent, her sobs are louder, and all too soon the Peacekeepers are at the door, and the two part as quickly as they can. Maizono asks for more time, but they ignore her, and Naegi is dragged away. He grips her pin; he hasn't yet had a chance to put it on. She's yelling goodbyes and good lucks and is soon dragged in the opposite direction by different Peacekeepers and Naegi realises that this is it; this really is goodbye.

It's a short ride to the train station, and there are even more cameras there then there were at the Reaping. In the stress of it all, in the fear and the horror, Naegi had almost forgotten that his death was going to be televised.

Kirigiri Kyouko does not seemed to have cried at all, and Naegi is shocked by this. He's not sure why. He just doesn't understand how someone can say their final words, their last goodbyes, to the people they care about most and not come away from it the least bit sad. Kirigiri looks disinterested, almost bored. There are cameras trained on her face and she pays absolutely no attention, going about this in an almost business-like way. Naegi thinks back to Maizono's words from earlier, about getting sponsors, and thinks Kirigiri isn't doing herself any favours. Unless she's really so confident in her ability to win the games she doesn't think she needs to rely on sponsors. That or she's already given up.

The two of them stand in the open doorway of the train for a while, cameras zooming in and out on their images. Kirigiri stares, disinterested, out into the sea of cameramen, but Naegi can't look up, and so stares at the ground, until finally, the train doors close, and the mechanical monster roars to life.

Travelling between districts is illegal, and this is the first time either of them have been on a train. The speed shocks Naegi for a second, and Kirigiri stumbles back, not quite able to walk for a second, before regaining her composure. Naegi thinks that the face she wore as she fell was that of the real Kirigiri, the Kirigiri who's young and scared and about to pushed into an arena and kill or be killed. She quickly applies her distant mask and makes her way to the chambers provided for her on the train. Naegi wanted to say something, but no longer has the chance. Regardless, he stands in the hallway, by the door, numb, hollow, empty, for a few moments, before making his way to his own chambers.

His chambers consist of a bathroom, a dressing room, and a bedroom. There are drawers full of clothes, and Naegi decides to change out of his snot-stained, tear-soaked shirt. He puts on a green shirt, and grabs a blue jacket. He pins Maizono's badge too it, then sits at the desk in his room, and fights the urge to cry.

He must have fallen asleep then, on that desk, because he's woken up by a sharp knock on the door. Ikusaba Mukuro's distinctive voice calls out, "It's time for supper," and Naegi pushes himself up and meets her. She's frowning, and he notices she's also changed her clothes. She's wearing a white blouse with a black ribbon, and a black skirt. She leads him to the dining room in silence.

Ikusaba was thirteen when she won the Hunger Games fifteen years ago; Naegi is pretty certain she's its youngest victor, but he doesn't pay attention to things like that, so he can't be sure. All he knows is that they talk about her tactics every year when the tributes from District Twelve are shown on screen; she didn't talk to anyone. She didn't make a single alliance. She didn't even learn the names of her opponents. She learnt how to handle every type of weapon there was, and utilised them all. She isolated herself from the other tributes, she barely spoke in her interview so they had no chance to learn about them, and she refused to acknowledge them as humans. In her post-victory interview, she said she had focused on forgetting they were human, and viewing them as livestock. She said that that was how the Capitol saw them, so why should she see them as any different?

That is why the people of District Twelve think of her as the Wolf. She is a monster who is able to remove her humanity, and Naegi, like so many other children, had grown up terrified of her, until he'd realised it was the Capitol who was the real villain.

Ikusaba Mukuro is as much a victim of the Games as anyone else is.

No one else is in the room when Naegi and Ikusaba arrive. She rolls her eyes and tells him to sit down; she'll go find everyone else. Naegi does as she says.

The dining room has panelled walls and the table is long. It reminds him a little of Maizono's home. He wonders if Victor's Village looks like this. He wonders if Ikusaba's house is like this, or if it's dark and closed off. He wonders how she can have possibly survived fifteen years of watching people die. Asking a thirteen year old to train people she knows, people she probably cares about to kill... Naegi wonders how heartless someone could be do make them endure this.

He's interrupted from his thoughts when Kirigiri enters, alone. She takes a seat at the table, and looks down. She fiddles with the cutlery and with the plates a little, and Naegi notices her hair is tied in one large braid, to the side. She still has that black ribbon tied in a neat bow in it. Her hair is wet, so she must have showered, unlike him. He wonders if this was the first time she used hot, running water.

She's changed into another dress, purple this time, and Naegi thinks to himself that the colour really suits her. She looks up at him, and he quickly glances away, but not before noticing her eyes are also a soft violet colour. It's unusual and also beautiful.

Ikusaba returns with Hagakure, who loudly claims that he hopes the two of them know how to use cutlery; the train ride is making his stomach feel somewhat upset, and he doesn't need their appalling manners to cause him to vomit. The meal is carried out in courses; soup, salad, meat and potatoes, fruit and cheese, cake. Despite his upset stomach, Hagakure digs in, shoving fork after fork into his mouth, and Kirigiri does the same. Naegi remembers she's from the Seam, and realises she's never had a full meal. That being said, even Naegi has never eaten food as rich in quality as this, and it's hard not to lick the plate.

"You know, you don't have to wear gloves inside, right Kirigiri-chi?" Hagakure points out about halfway through the meal. She makes a point of ignoring him from that point on.

The meal is awfully quiet, due to Kirigiri's purposeful ignorance of Hagakure's words, and Ikusaba's usual cold silence. It seems like Hagakure is used to this, and Naegi imagines that most tributes aren't very talkative, but Naegi's not used to this at all. His meals at home are filled with his dad's bad jokes and his mum chatising everyone and Komaru laughing loudly and nudging him and picking fights with their dad that aren't real but they both pretend to get upset by. It reminds Naegi just how far away from home he really is.

After the meal finishes, and Naegi feels like he's going to burst, the four of them go to another room to watch the recap of the Reapings. Hagakure says they're going to enjoy it, that the mix this year looks awfully good, and he sits between Naegi and Kirigiri on the sofa, excited. Ikusaba sits in an armchair slightly apart from them, a glass of what Naegi assumes is gin in her hand.

The other Reapings start with District One, and Naegi and Kirigiri see for the first time their opponents. Naegi can't help but wonder which one will kill him, and how it will be done. The slim, glamourous tributes from District One, both clad in smart, formal black outfits look smart enough to do it without even getting their hands dirty. The boy from District Two could probably choke him, but the girl from District Two looks like she could crush him with her bare hands. The pair from District Four have round, innocent faces, but eyes that twinkle with menace. Naegi doesn't remember their names, only the fear that steals over him when he sees them volunteer.

And then there are the faces that don't scare him, but stick out for other reasons. The boy from District Three; small, delicate and slim, angry boy from District Five who looks honoured to be selected but also like he's about to burst and the less-slim, less angry boy from Seven who sweats and stutters when he's asked for his name. The girl from District Eleven, with her long hair in braids and her teary eyes hidden behind glasses.

And then there's the girl from District Twelve who puts on a brave face until a boy screams he volunteers, and another girl takes her place with her face blank and her eyes dull. Naegi doesn't know the boy who should be here with her, but he watches as he stumbles forwards in shock and stands beside Kirigiri.

The show cuts off before there's a chance for them to watch the salutes. Naegi supposes he'll never know who started them.

Hagakure asks if they're excited. Kirigiri has her eyes narrowed and nods before dismissing herself from the room, a look of sheer concentration in her eyes.

Ikusaba smiles, and raises her glass to her lips. "She knows," she mumbles.

"I'm sorry?" Naegi turns to her.

"She knows how to read people," Ikusaba explains. "That'll come in handy."

"Will it?" Naegi slides down the sofa and a little closer to her. Ikusaba looks a little shocked by it, like she didn't expect him to want to listen to her, but she nods and continues.

"When I was in the Arena, it was the only thing I could do," she explains. "I spent three days watching people, working out which weapons the prefered, which fighting styles they were likely to use, what their strengths were, what their weaknesses were. I had to see them as nothing more than a list of these facts, because if I hesitated for a second, that was the end of me. And that's why I'm still here." She took another sip. "If that got me demonised by the rest of the district, who cares?"

Hagakure rolls his eyes. "Going to rant about how 'everybody hates you even though you pour your heart and soul into this district and trying to keep its good-for-nothing brats alive' again, are you, Ikusaba-chi?"

Ikusaba growls, "No, I'm going to tell this boy what he needs to know to stay alive. Like I try to do every year, Hagakure-kun, if you'd give me a chance." She shakes her head and smiles at Naegi. "I was fast, Naegi-kun, that was the only strength I thought I had. So I ran off my podium and tried to take the weapons I knew had been provided especially for the Careers, leaving them to use ones they weren't properly trained to use. And then I learnt how to master those weapons. That's the one skill you need to have in the Games; versatility. You have to be ready to use whatever's there, and make the most of it. If you're willing to work with me, and not all all tributes are, I can help you get a good read on people, that is, if Kirigiri-san doesn't get their first."

Naegi is stunned. He's never heard Ikusaba talk about her time in the Arena. He's never heard her talk for so long or say so much, and for a second he's confused, but then he sees it. He sees the gleam of desperation behind her smile, shining in her eyes. She doesn't want to lose them. She wants them to survive. He realises she must be like this every year, and yet the tributes always ignore her or shy away from her because they see her as some kind of monster.

"Of course I'll work with you, Ikusaba-san," he says, feeling tears prick at her eyes again. She must be so alone, and so hurt, putting in all her effort into keeping kids who hate her alive, only to be rewarded with their harsh words, their even harsher death, and resentment from their friends and family back home for not doing enough to keep them alive. "I'd be honoured for you to guide me."

Ikusaba beams, and talks about what will happen when the get off the train, the places they'll go, their stylists, the interviews. She talks about how important it is to make a good impression on the people of the Capitol, and Naegi tells her what her mother says about alliances. Ikusaba chews her lip, and says that she'll discuss that with both tributes tomorrow, and that if she's going to but her all into training them, then the pair of them better put their all into winning, and Naegi nods, but tells her he's not sure he can promise anything. She understands.

The sky darkens. They could be passing through District Ten or Seven, none of them know, but Ikusaba puts him on the shoulder, and suggests he tells Kirigiri to get some sleep too, before pointing him in the direction of her room.

...

Kirigiri paces. Her mind is whirring and try as she might to sit down, she can't. She just needs to busy herself. She needs to feel as busy as she is, and she is extremely busy. Districts One, Two and Four usually ally. She feels like the boy from Five and the girl from Seven might wind up with them, but she's not sure. The Tributes from One are cold and calculating; they'll try to control the group, using Two as their weapons. Four will both fall as soon as One is tired of them, which could be right at the beginning. Three doesn't stand a chance, Eight will be lost in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia on the first day, and Nine, Ten and Eleven are likely to fall with them.

But she can't be sure until she has more facts to go on. She sits down for a second, anxious. She'll have their scores soon. That will help her work out alliances; One will definitely want to add whoever have the highest scores to the Career pack. That's how it works. And some of the kids from the poorer districts look like they could have hidden skills.

Her leg is shaking slightly, bobbing up and down. She stands up and paces again. The bag Komaru handed her sits on her desk. She grabs a cake from it, even though she's stuffed from dinner. She stares at it, stood still. She thinks about the amount of effort that must have gone into icing something like this. She thinks about how much money someone would pay for that.

She imagines Komaru heading to her home that night, and being disgusted by where she lives. She imagines her grandfather sitting up and asking where she is, and Komaru putting down a basket of bread and explaining what happened, and saying she'll take care of him from now on. Grandfather will like Komaru. Komaru has the warm smile that always looked so false on Kirigiri's face, and hands her grandfather can hold without being scared of hurting, and a voice that's soft and calming. Someone who pays as much attention to detail as the baker of the cake Kirigiri's holding will be able to look after him, make him dinner, make sure he eats. Kirigiri knows she's getting ahead of herself, but she can't help but hope for a future where Naegi wins the Games and Komaru sees Kirigiri kept her promise, and Komaru buys her grandfather medication and her grandfather gets better and he manages to live the rest of his life happy and well.

Kirigiri doesn't realise she's crying until a tear drips off her face and smudges the icing Komaru must have spent so long making. She puts it down, pushes her fringe back, and paces again.

There's a knock on the door. Since she's on her feet, she answers it.

"Hi," Naegi says, sheepishly.

"Hello," she responds.

"Uh, Ikusaba-san says it's getting late," Naegi licks his lips, "and we've got a big day in front of us, so we should probably get some sleep."

Kirigiri nods. "Alright. Thank you for letting me know."

"No problem," Naegi smiles, and turns to walk away, and Kirigiri begins to shut the door, but he turns back and says, "Oh, and Kirigiri-san?"

"Yes?"

"I... Thank you so much," he whispers. "I'll never be able to make this up to you."

Kirigiri wants to tell him that he could make it up to her by staying alive. Instead she says, "What I did for your sister was no problem, Naegi-kun. You don't need to make it up to me."

He smiles again. "Goodnight, Kirigiri-san," he says softly.

"Goodnight, Naegi-kun," she replies, gently.

He leaves. She shuts the door. She leans against it for a second, just breathing. Then she searches the drawers for a nightgown, and slips into bed. She can't calm down her thoughts or her heartbeat, and tries to sleep, but can't. She wants to cry, but no tears come; she worries for a moment that she denied herself the right to cry so many times today she might never be able to cry again.

* * *

**author's note: **sorry this has taken me so long to write, but the first half of the problem was finding time to reread the book, and the second half was sitting down and writing this. both chapters have been nearly six thousand words, and that's quite a lot, especially where you're someone like me, who writes about a thousand words in an hour.

the reason that this fic was written in third person and not first or second was so that i could switch points of view, and im sorry if you dont like that but its likely a thing that will happen in this fic quite a lot, although most of it will be from naegis point of view. i hope that you enjoy this chapter and that i can get the next one to you soon.

still unbeta'd so sorry for any spelling and grammar problems though i did proof-read it twice so hopefully there arent many and if there are many theyre few and far between.


End file.
